Midnight Hands
by my-write-to-be
Summary: 'Never judge a book by its cover' had never been so true.


**Disclaimer:**I own nothing but the plot, everything else belongs to their original creators.

**Warnings:** Violence, swearing, mentions of rape, mentions of self harm, dealings in depression, and anything else I may have missed.

**A/N:** So, what was meant to be a short piece of fluff, turned into a much longer, much darker work. This is my first foray into this fiction, so there are probably some errors. I'm not completely happy with it, but most of it was written at odd times in the morning when I couldn't sleep, so that's my excuse. Hopefully it's at least enjoyable. Oh, and happy new year~

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><p>James T. Kirk. Captain. Hero. Genius. Womaniser. He bore many titles, and not all flattering. Yet he bore them all with a weird sense of pride. The more those opposed him sought to bring him down, the more determined he was to flaunt just how much he deserved his position. Or how much he didn't, depending on whose opinion was being asked.<p>

His First Officer, who was in so many ways his polar opposite, cringed at many of the titles one Jim Kirk held. How such an illogical, impulsive, self-destructive person continued to survive was truly beyond him. Despite his expertise in many areas, Spock could never quite understand just _how_ his captain managed to live through each day.

Though he loath to admit it, there were many things Spock didn't understand about his commanding officer. He couldn't fathom his captain's strategy during their near nightly chess matches. Or his ability to eat increasingly unhealthy foods, and still manage to keep an optimal figure, with little exercise. Or even why he called Dr McCoy 'friend', when the older man spent so long insulting him.

Mostly, Spock couldn't understand why his captain needed physical contact constantly. Whether it be a slap on the back in passing, or a simple hand on the shoulder as he leaned over someone on the bridge, he found it necessary to touch those around him. At first Spock assumed it was a form of self reassurance, a way of ensuring it was indeed 'real' and that the people around him were indeed his crew. But he was forced to discard this theory for two reasons. The first being that the touching continued even after their first year working as an official crew.

The second reason, being the most perplexing, almost made Spock sad. If, of course, he could feel something for such an illogical reason, which he most certainly didn't. It caused him frustration he wouldn't acknowledge, and became on object of fixation during meditation.

His captain, his commanding officer, his _friend_, wouldn't touch him.

And he hated it.

"You should-" The familiar voice of the doctor floated across the large dinning hall, gracing Spock's sensitive ears.

"I know, stop nagging." His captain cut across the other man, sounding frustrated. Curiosity piqued, Spock collected his meal tray and made his way to the table unofficially reserved for the bridge crew and various commanding officers.

"I'm not naggin'." The usual grumble simply wasn't in the doctor's words, his tone closer to defensive.

Jim opened his mouth to respond, but quickly changed his mind once he saw his First Officer approaching. "Hey Spock."

"Captain. Doctor."

"Come on, we're off duty, call me Jim." The hybrid chose not to reply, setting down his meal instead. McCoy shook his head, standing abruptly. Raising an eyebrow slowly, Spock watched the older man closely.

"Bones." Jim's tone almost seemed to hold a warning. The doctor didn't reply, muttering obscenities under his breath about 'green blooded hobgoblins', before stalking off.

"Have I done something to offend Dr McCoy?" The words held their usual emotionless tone, not even the slightest bit of curiosity colouring the question.

"No, don't worry." Spock bit back the urge to comment on how concern was a Human emotion, and something he was not privy to.

For a long while the pair ate in silence. Spock carefully took each bite, every movement measured. As in most things, Jim took a very different approach. The blonde seeming to take great joy in devouring as much food in as little time as he could manage. Spock found it rather illogical.

He also found it a little disgusting, and strangely endearing, but these thoughts were forcefully squashed and ignored.

"Captain?" The other man made a small noise in the back of his throat, not even looking up from his rapidly disappearing food. "Would it be agreeable for us to convene at a later hour for our ritual chess match?"

For a moment Jim looked confused, before swallowing thickly. He chuckled, shaking his head with a small smile. "No need to be so formal Spock." He took a long pull of his coffee before continuing. "How about we finish up here, I'll go have a quick shower, and you come back to my quarters after?"

"That would be agreeable." Again Jim just chuckled, easily finishing the last of his meal.

"I'll see you in about half an hour?"

"I predict thirty-four point six minutes, if you follow your usual bathing routine."

"I'm not even going to question how you can predict that so well." Jim shook his head, still smiling. For a moment Spock was unsure if he had overstepped his bounds, so chose to remain silent. "I'll see you in thirty-four point six minutes then."

Spock gave a solemn nod before returning to his food, resolutely _not_ watching his captain leave. Such a sight was far too fascinating to be proper.

Making quick work of his own meal, Spock made sure to dispose of his tray before leaving the mess hall. Calculating the time he had until his captain would be sufficiently ready, Spock realised he would have to hurry if he wasn't to be late. The thought of disappointing his captain in anyway was extremely disagreeable.

Keeping a long stride, Spock barely acknowledged those around him. Not even Nyota was able to hold his attention for a more than a moment, something that seemed to upset her. Spock made a mental note to explain his actions later, confident that she would be understanding. They were friends after all, a fact she took satisfaction in stating whenever possible.

With nearly ten minutes left until his appointment with his captain, Spock paced his room restlessly. Though he never paced, as he never felt restless.

The soft sounds of Jim bathing flowed through his door to their shared bathroom. They acted as a stimulant, seeming to drive him forward in his carefully controlled steps. It was illogical for him to be acting as he was, but Spock simply couldn't bring himself to stop. Something was driving him forward, causing him to take the next step, forcing him to turn sharply when he reached each opposing wall. He refused to linger on the subject.

His head automatically jerked at the sound of the shower being turned off. The luxury of water was one his captain seemed to indulge in quite often. Spock forcibly quietened his breathing, carefully listening for the wet footsteps his captain would be taking.

Once he heard the telltale sounds of the other bathroom door being opened and closed, Spock had to exercise great control. A strange part of his mind demanded he dart forward, immerse himself in the scent Jim no doubt would have left behind. It was a very disturbing part of his psyche, a part that was kept carefully bound and often ignored.

Standing rigidly at parade rest, Spock refused to allow himself to move for a long moment. Regulating his breathing, he performed a very shallow method of meditation, simply to regain an appropriate level of control.

"Spock?" The small chirp of his communicator almost startled him. Something was indeed wrong with his control.

"Yes Captain?" A slender eyebrow raised itself delicately. "Is there something you require?"

"I just wanted to let you know you can come over now." Rather than answering, Spock simply made his way through their joint bathing facility.

He found his Jim already sitting at their customary place, setting up what would be the first of many games. Nodding his greeting, Spock elegantly took his own place, calmly waiting for the preparations to be complete.

For a long while they played in relative silence. Minor ship issues were briefly discussed, though Jim quickly put an end to it as soon as it appeared the conversation would become too serious for his liking.

"Captain?"

"Jim." The word was muttered, more out of habit then any misbelieve the half Vulcan would actually concede. "Yeah?"

"Am I not to be accompanying you on the away mission scheduled tomorrow, 0800 hours?" While the words were delivered in the First Officer's usual tone, Jim knew something was amiss.

"The report said the inhabitants like to be all touchy feely."

"'Touchy feely', Captain?"

"They think it's rude to talk to someone without touching them in some way."

"I am aware, I did read the report." Spock's tone was almost exasperated, almost. "They also dislike eye contact, and have very strict customs in regards to appropriate body language. I believe it would be best for me to accompany you."

"What, don't think I can take care of myself?" Though the words were said in jest, they still made the older man stiffen.

"I believe, with your preference to make connections of an amorous nature with humanoid species', it would be best that I accompany the team."

"Are you accusing me of being a flirt?" Jim didn't even bother to hide his anger and hurt at the accusation.

"I am merely drawing a conclusion from the evidence provided." Spock couldn't see why his captain was getting upset. "You are known for your freedom, and many intimate encounters-"

"Get out." His words were hard and flat, easily cutting right through the calm tone of his First Officer.

"Pardon sir?"

"I said, get out." He didn't raise his voice, didn't look up. Blue eyes remained trained on the chess board before them, gaze completely devoid of emotion. "I won't just let you to sit there and call me a slut."

"I do not understand sir."

"Leave now, or Security will escort you out." Spock hesitated a moment, earning a dark glare from his captain.

Standing sharply, he bowed his head once, before swiftly departing. Curiosity warred with confusion and a slight sensation of _hurt_. He contemplated the first two carefully, the last he ignored completely. It made no sense for his captain to grow angry over a presentation of the facts.

He had only been showing concern. It was his duty to care for his captain, a duty he took very seriously. It was well known exactly how his captain liked to spend his time, and Spock himself had heard proof of this many times. The wall between their sleeping quarters wasn't very thick, and he was privy to every moan, every rustle of sheets, every sound of movement. It had taken him a great amount of time to become accustomed to it.

Resisting the urge to being pacing once more, Spock carefully arranged himself to meditate. As soon as the gentle smells of incense and mild candles were washing over him, Spock felt himself relax. Descending into the languid thoughts that were always so comforting, he was able to let his mind wander. Picking at all that had caused him even the slightest moments pause, the confusions of the day became more clear.

As always, there was a space in his mind that he would not approach. It seemed to pulse with light and colour, a stark reminder of his Human heritage amongst the peaceful black expanses of his thoughts. Everything had it's place within Spock's mind, and while the chaotic force of his emotions were no different, he loathed to approach that part of himself.

Eventually Spock conceded he would have to retire if he wished to be on the bridge before the away team would be scheduled to leave. Easing himself into the comforting softness of his bed, Spock darkened his already dim room. For a long moment he lay in silence, simply enjoying the hum of the _Enterprise_ around him.

"_Bones_." The word was low, drawn out, an obvious moan. Followed by a few gasps, and the unmistakable sounds of movement, Spock found it particularly distasteful. Usually his captain wasn't so vocal as to _who _was sharing his bed, the fact that it was the doctor did nothing to improve Spock's mood.

A strangled cry floated into Spock's hearing, making his fingers curl into fists momentarily. It was followed by a near deafening silence, the complete lack of movement screaming at Spock from the other side of the bulkhead. Knowing sleep was now an impossible outcome, Spock turned over, stubbornly forcing his breathing to even out.

Morning came slowly, the hours seeming to trickle by. Spock rose unrested and out of sorts, not that a Vulcan _could_ be out of sorts. Bathing quickly, he noticed with some annoyance that his captain had already vacated his rooms. This only caused him to hurry through his morning routine, a vague fear of being left out of the away team driving him forward.

By the time he made it on to the bridge, he was only just presentable. Nyota threw him a questioning look, the only Human who knew him well enough to know he wasn't completely prepared for the day ahead.

"Lt. Uhura, report." There was no hint in his captain's voice that he was still angry over the previous nights events. Then again, he made no move to acknowledge his First Officer either.

"The Pobl are expecting the away team within the next hour sir."

"Good." Jim turned in his chair, staring out into the expanse of space for a moment. "I can't wait to try out our new sign language." He added as a casual after thought.

"But sir, Meester, I mean, Commander Spock is not knowing it yet." Ensign Chekov turned his wide eyes onto Jim, employing what he knew to be his cutest confused face.

"Huh, you're right." Jim turned to Spock, his eyes completely empty of emotion. "Sorry about that."

"I shall assume I have been given clearance to join you Captain." He refused to allow the anger he was feeling to surface. "I will endeavour to accustom myself to this new language during our time on the planet."

His captain simply shrugged, not even directly looking at him. His gaze seemed to slide, never actually lingering for more than the briefest moment. This fact reminded Spock painfully of what he had heard during the night, though such memories, and the emotions they threatened, were illogical.

Spock's thoughts never truly moved from his Jim, even as he should have been concentrating on other happenings. It wasn't until he had been ushered into the room he would be utilising by his Poblian guide that Spock realised just how distracted he had been.

Taking a moment to hurriedly recall all that he had unknowingly missed, Spock barely bit back a sigh of relief. He had done nothing to offend his hosts. A stray thought was even _grateful_ for his distraction, as it had acted as a buffer against all the unwanted touches.

"Mr. Spock." The voice effectively broke him of his small lapse into thought.

Activating his own communicator, he calmed himself before answering. "Captain?" There was a long pause, the silence dragging on long enough for Spock to repeat himself.

His answer came in the form of a sharp knock at his door. Perplexed, Spock moved swiftly, opening the heavy wooden structure, he was surprised to find his captain on the other side. Stepping out of his way smoothly, he watched the Human enter, attempting to discern the man's mood.

"Mr. Spock." The same chill tone, almost monotonous. It cut, right through him. But he couldn't admit that, wouldn't admit that. Words didn't cut, they only conveyed messages. A means of communication, and nothing more.

"Sir?"

The fist came out of nowhere, almost knocking him off his feet. It was a harsh blow, aimed to hurt. Designed to cause pain. Spock stumbled, hand instinctively moving to cover the now tender flesh.

He remained bent over for a moment, as though his captain's fist were still there. A few sharp breaths pulled themselves into his lungs, fighting past the initial shock. Spock didn't straighten until he was able to bring his breathing back into its normal pattern.

Dark brown eyes flickered to cold blue, before lowering in what could have been shame, if Vulcans felt shame. It made no sense for him to feel regret, for he was the one who had been attacked. Yet, Spock couldn't help the bitter sensation flowing through him.

"I need you on this one," his captain shook his head in what Spock could only guess was frustration. "Even I have to admit that." Blue eyes suddenly swung from the far wall to his face. Just because it was impossible for them to actually read his thoughts and delve into his innermost person, didn't make it feel any less true.

"We're even. We don't mention this, we don't mention the other night. None of it happened, clear?" Spock nodded, unsure of what he could possibly say. "Good, I'll see you in the morning."

With that he left, closing the door behind himself with a sharp, seemingly thunderous, click. For the longest moment, Spock stood where his captain had left him, staring at the clean white of the wall as if it would offer him the answers he sought. Realising the folly of such an action, he forcibly removed himself, deciding his time better spent meditating.

The days the away team spent with the Pobl provided Spock with an endless stream of new information to keep himself occupied. He became fluent in his captain's new sign language by the end of the second day, being sure to watch any movement that may contain meaning carefully.

He was provided various flora and fauna specimens to take back to _Enterprise_, an honour he appreciated greatly. Taking great pains to properly thank their hosts, Spock was silently proud, and a little amazed, at how well the away team kept to the customs of the Pobl. Though pride and amazement were useless feelings, in and of themselves.

It wasn't until their time with the Pobl were drawing to a close that things took a turn for the worse. Though, for the most part, they found their host cordial, and the differences in traditions and customs easy to overcome, Spock couldn't help but find fault in his captain's behaviour.

Spock watched carefully as his captain spoke to the daughter of the Pobl ambassador. A flicker of what could have been anger in a Human passed over his eyes, there for only an instant before being pushed down once more. Spock had warned him, had advised against such actions, yet there he was, obviously attempting to make contact of an amorous nature.

Seeing an opportunity, Spock quickly crossed the room, easily dodging various members of the away team and Poblians. The coy smile the ambassador's daughter sent over her shoulder at his captain only caused Spock to quicken his step.

As he was Vulcan, Spock had to be honest, even to himself. The female's long hair hung gracefully down her back, the deep brown tones catching the light easily. It shone with health, the sun kissing soft highlights along it's length. Blue eyes were framed by long lashes, always seeming to be down cast, so as to peer up demurely through the fine barrier.

A slim waist was accented by a large bust, and what would be consider as aesthetically pleasing hips. This was covered by the barest amount of clothing, all bright fabrics in colours usually found on tropical flowers. It almost pained Spock, the colours garish against the orange tinted skin of her kind, though his captain seemed to approve of the scheme.

"Captain, I must requested you stop your current course of action."

"What?" His tone was distracted, a fact that was reinforced by the way his gaze followed gently swaying hips.

"You stipulated we do not discuss a certain subject, but I find it illogical not to warn you again of the dangers your actions may present." Spock kept his tone perfectly neutral and emotionless. It wouldn't do for his captain to know how hard that was.

"Explain." At least he had the other man's attention now, though the hard look in his eyes made him regret it momentarily. If he could regret.

"Your intention to follow this course of action may cause a break down in diplomatic relations." Spock continued at his captain's flat look. "Our hosts have vastly different customs to your own, and what you may interpret as amorous feelings, may simply be an expression of a desire for friendship."

His Jim let out a heavy sigh. "Look, let's get something straight." Spock's pose stiffened at the obvious anger in his captain's low voice. "Just because I'm _charming _and _polite_ to someone doesn't mean I'm trying to get in their pants. I may escort her back to her rooms later, but I _won't_ be joining her. I know exactly what my duty is, and it is not your place to question me, _Commander._"

Spock nodded, turning sharply on his heel and walked away. He was thankful his captain didn't follow him, or issue disciplinary charges, as was well within his rights. From his tone and facial expression, Spock had vastly misjudged his captain. Though forgiveness was simply a verbal expression to expunge guilt, which in and of itself was illogical, Spock found himself wishing to have his captain's.

Instead of returning to his allotted room, Spock chose to beam back aboard the _Enterprise_ that night. Trusting his absence would be explained away as a Vulcan need for solitude, he felt his actions would have no ill effect. Meditating in his own rooms seemed somewhat beneficial to both his mood, or lack thereof, and his mental stability.

Taking refuge within his own mind, Spock was mildly frustrated when he was disturbed by the telltale chirp of his communicator. Pulling himself from his own mental depths, he pressed the device, activating it.

"Yes doctor?"

"Get your green ass down here," the doctor seemed agitated, more so than usual. "Now!"

Not one to ignore such heartfelt demands, Spock quickly doused the flames of his candles, raising with the natural grace of his species. While his stride through the halls was longer than normal, Spock refused to actually rush.

The sight that met him at the medical bay made him wish he had run. His captain lay on a bed, far across the room, shrouded in shadows. Despite this, Spock's eyes were drawn to the prone form, as though it were all that existed.

Taking steps that were probably betraying his haste, Spock came to an uneasy halt beside the doctor, looking down at the unnaturally still face of his friend. His breathing was even, much like that of sleep. His face was smooth, unmarked and calm.

"He came in complaining of chest pain." Dr. McCoy offered without Spock having to ask. "I took one look at him and knew something was wrong." The other man leaned forward, gently pulling down the stark white blanket covering gently tanned skin.

Bruises graced the delicate skin, all fresh and undoubtedly painful. The multitude shades of red and purple were strangely beautiful, in a darkly twisted way. As the doctor pulled the sheet lower, Spock felt his anger rise. Anger he ignored.

"Bruises on his wrists suggest he was tied up." Dr. McCoy's words were fuzzy, as though there was a disturbance in their travel from his mouth to Spock's ears. "Along with rectal-"

Spock cut him off. "It is my understanding that some Human's prefer their sexual encounters to be physically challenging."

"This wasn't just rough sex, you cold blooded goblin, this was rape." If the doctor continued talking, Spock was unaware. Following his words, the world faded into a blank nothingness.

Spock wasn't sure if it was hours, or mere moments before he returned. When he did, a part of him fervently wished he hadn't.

Screams filled the air. For a moment Spock was confused. It took far too long for him to realise it was the terrible sounds of anguish that had brought him from the darkness that had consumed him. All thoughts of Vulcan control were long gone.

The sluggish movement of thick, orange blood drew his attention. The light colour contrasted with dirty brown of the dried blood beneath. Spock watched, head slight cocked, as the distinctly alien blood mixed with that of his Human captain.

The noise wrenching itself from an unknown throat pulled Spock from his reprieve, forcing his focus to shift. The sound came from the lips of a Poblian. Old, fat and bolding, Spock noticed with what amounted to a Vulcan sneer.

Blue eyes bore into his own. So much like his captain's, his Jim's. _Jim._ The word floated across his mind, sluggish and warm. It burned, pulsing with an undeniable need. Spock couldn't be free of it, no matter how hard he pushed it away. It clouded his mind, growing until it filled him completely. Soon there was nothing left but burning need.

Raising long, delicate fingers, Spock gently gripped the side of the other being's face. His screams very suddenly died, falling silent at the look in the hybrid's eyes. Horror flittered across his face, followed by a certainty that seemed to sap his strength completely. A flick of the wrists. A sickening crunching of bones.

The corpse fell to the floor at Spock's feet. Mixing with it's own blood, and some of the organs Spock had managed to remove without excessive struggling. For a long moment he simply stood there, in the middle of the blood and gore, seemingly oblivious to it.

New screams entered his range of hearing. These were angry, calling an alarm. Hands wrapped around his shoulders, directing him. Others caught his own hands, pulling them almost painfully behind his back. A part of his mind blandly pointed out he could easily throw off his captors, but that would be illogical. He had committed a crime after all.

The world went black once more, though this time Spock knowingly retreated.

Days later Spock learnt his captain had recovered. This information was delivered by an understanding security officer, probably in the hope of diminishing the guilt she assumed he was feeling. He had very few visitors after being escorted to the brig, especially after the doctor had declared him mentally unfit for duty. Spock couldn't argue with his judgement.

Some how Lt. Commander Scott had been able to smooth over the debacle. Nyota had found the solution of course. It was lucky that the Pobl had sent a comprehensive list of their laws, along with their customs. Though Vulcan's found luck illogical.

Spock had been saved by the simple fact that the man he had murdered, had raped his captain. Nyota had called the law barbaric when she had met with Spock to tell him, though she seemed thankful for their belief in 'an eye for an eye'.

It took nearly a week for his captain to come to him. The other man was reserved, and refused to look at him. Spock knew to stay silent, not that he had anything to say anyway. He wouldn't apologise for his actions, nor would he offer an explanation. Both courses would be pointless, doing nothing to alter the past. He considering saying as much to his captain, but a strange tightness around those blue eyes silenced him.

"Why?" The question surprised him. Enough so that he had no answer.

The silence stretched between the two men, mocking them with all it could say while refusing to yield. He watched his captain watch the wall, wordlessly begging him to look his way. Logically, he should have spoken.

His captain left without an answer.

The following day he was released to his own quarters, where he was not permitted to leave without the company of a security officer or his captain. Spock knew he wasn't likely to see his captain again for a while. Despite the pointlessness of avoiding another individual just because they represented an uncomfortable situation, Spock knew his captain was an illogical being.

He still couldn't utter his captain's name, not even in his own mind. The irrational fear of losing control once more always stopped him.

It was the doctor who finally cleared him for duty, though his constant protests that 'there has got to be something wrong with the hobgoblin!', indicated it was under duress. Spock told him, on more than one occasion, that even if Vulcan's did feel emotions, their extensive meditative practices would keep them at levels that wouldn't compromise their ability to work. He had paid him no heed.

The first shift back on the bridge had been strained, enough so for Spock to notice. Rather than cause his fellow crew members further distress, he had fled to the labs to continue other work. His captain had been happy to see him go.

Spock refused to admit he was counting down the moments until his shift would be over, he was merely keeping constantly aware of the time that had passed. The crew had been weary of him since his release. They knew he had been held in the brig, and his own quarters, but had no inkling as to why. Nyota had informed him of some of the rumours currently circulating the younger members in particular. Spock's only reply had been to point out they could find all the answers they needed in both his, and his captain's, reports, as they were not classified documents and therefore available for all to peruse.

Unwilling to cause even greater strain on working relationships that were unpleasantly weak to begin with, Spock actively avoided his colleagues. He tried to convince himself it was due to their obvious distaste and unwillingness to share the same space as his person, rather than his own feelings of guilt. Not that he held such, of course.

Dining alone in his quarters was not as pleasant as he once thought it would be. Despite a near constant wish to be left to eat in solitude, with maybe a datapad to work, Spock found he missed the din of the mess. He missed the unyielding press of noise and emotion, though he was loath to admit it.

Meditation proved difficult that night. Flashes of memories, and emotions he refused to face, flew through his mind. The smell of blood flooded his senses, even as screaming echoed in his ears. It was beyond his usual hour to retire by the time he pulled himself from his thoughts.

Taking long, deep breaths, Spock attempted to quash the residue of his failed coming back to himself, and the dark room he was seated in, it took Spock a moment to register what he was hearing.

Muffled moaning. The unmistakable sound of sheets sliding against themselves. His lip curled in distaste, a blind hatred flashing through him on a wave of anger so strong he almost lost himself to it.

Then a word, so clear to his sensitive ears. So loud it may as well have been screamed, yelled at him from inches away. "_Bones_"

It took all of Spock's self control to not storm through their shared bathroom and tear the offending man apart. The small part of his brain still steeped in logic knew he could do it, told him he had done it before. That part fought to stay in control, fought to make him lay down and ignore his surroundings. Fought to make him sleep, as though blood lust wasn't burning in his veins.

When he woke the following morning, he was both disappointed and glad it was a fight logic had won.

Much to his dismay, Spock found his cold, hard, much loved logic didn't stand up against its next challenge. The test came some seventeen hours after the first, seeming to hit Spock right in the stomach, painfully close to where his heart lay.

Taking long strides, he came to an uneasy rest on what felt like the wrong side of the captain's door, despite the nervous feelings he refused to acknowledge. Raising his hand easily, Spock didn't allow himself the hesitation that would have no doubt seen him flee. The chime sounded, loud enough for Vulcan hearing to sense it through the metal.

It was ignored.

Waiting a few moments, Spock announced his presence again, his fingers resting on the button a little longer than strictly necessary. When that, too, was ignored, Spock confirmed his captain's location with the computer.

Fighting back very unVulcan frustration, he keyed in his override code, rationalising to himself that he must ensure his commanding officer wasn't in any danger. The fact that he was safe in his own quarters, in his own ship, surrounded by a crew that, if not loved him, respected him greatly, seemed to escape Spock.

"Spock?" The incredulous question didn't reach the hybrids ears. He was across the room in exactly five point two steps. His fingers sought the appropriate pressure points, and the offending man had crumpled to the floor within three point seven one seconds of Spock's initial arrival.

His captain was livid.

"What the hell?"

"It was inappropriate for the doctor to be touching you as such."

"He was giving me a hug!" His captain's tight tone did little to shake his outward calm.

"I do not believe it wise for you to be engaging in relations so soon after your," Spock paused for a moment, choosing the right term. "Attack."

"First, it's none of your business when I engage in _relations_," blue eyes stared at him with a look so full of open hatred, his heart jolted. "Second, and god knows why I have to defend myself to you, it was a friendly hug. I'm sorry you can't tell the difference, but he was _comforting_ me."

"His touch was inappropriate."

"Why Spock?" The other man didn't wait for an answer. "Because it's illogical to comfort a friend? Because touching in general is inappropriate, even in the private of my _own _rooms?" A look of realisation suddenly crossed his face. Oceanic eyes narrowed. "Or is it because you're a homophobe?"

Spock was silent for a moment, unable and unsure of how to answer. This silence was enough to confirm his captain's accusations.

"So just because two men can't make babies, they shouldn't be together?"

"You misunderstand Captain."

"Really _Commander_?" Eyes narrowed further, an unspoken challenge clearly issued. "Then please, do explain."

Spock took time to organise his thoughts, completely unsure of how to breach the subject in a way that would be appropriate. He didn't know how to tell his captain he listened to him at night. That he heard every moan that came from his bed.

"As you are aware Captain, our quarters share a common wall, as well as a common bathroom." The other man nodded slowly, obviously lost as to how such information was related to the current discussion. "Because of this wall, I have become aware of your sleeping habits. Due to my superior Vulcan hearing, it has come to my attention that the doctor has been sharing your bed. I found this to be unacceptable, as you were so recently attacked and such actions would only be detrimental to your recovery."

For the longest time, his captain only stared at him. Spock worried he was only preparing more words to fling at him, in the most painful way possible. A skill only his Jim had been able to use so effectively against him.

"I haven't-" He shook his head. "We didn't-" Again, he stopped. "Bones and I never..."

"I was under the impression that during orgasm, it is Human tradition to utter the name of your partner."

For the second time, a look of realisation passed over the other man's features. His eyes widened slowly, mouth opening with unuttered words. Spock stood in righteous anger and smug satisfaction, two _emotions_ he would never admit to feeling.

"If you believe charges should be pressed-" He was cut off by a word so soft, it may as well have not been spoken.

"Nightmares."

"Pardon, Captain?"

"I have nightmares Spock." His tone was so resigned, voice so defeated, Spock physically felt his anger leech from his system. His shoulders slumped imperceptibly, drained of strength. His captain continued, completely ignorant of the change in his first officer. "I dream of my friends dying in my arms, in such shocking detail I wake up half convinced it was real.

"Almost every night, I watch Bones, or Scotty, or Chekov get ripped apart, blown to pieces or torn to shreds." Spock was shaking now, the slightest tremors tearing through his body. They were reflected in his captain's body, though his were larger, more obvious. "Whatever you think you're hearing at night, it's not _relations_."

"I-I apologise, Captain." If the other man was surprised by the apology, or the way Spock stuttered, he didn't show it.

With a sigh, a hand ran through blonde hair, making it stand on end for a second, before falling back into place messily. "It's fine Spock. It's not like I expected you to know. I'd probably draw the same conclusion, given my, ah, reputation."

Spock nodded, uncertain of what he was expected to say. He felt his Captain's eyes on him, though the other's head remained down cast. His own gaze danced over the other man's frame, soaking in every detail he could, desperately trying to accumulate any information on how he was feeling.

The crumpled body of the doctor remained ignored.

"Spock, I'm going to have to ask you to never mention this again."

"I understand Captain."

"I'll explain to Bones when he wakes up." The blonde sighed heavily, eyes turned to his friend still unconscious on the floor. "God, he's going to be pissed." A bitter smile pulled at his lips.

"I apologise for causing you distress Captain."

"Jim."

"I shall report to Security." Spock turned to leave.

"Wait." A warm hand wrapped itself around Spock's forearm, halting his movement. He could have easily shaken it free, but the heat soaked effortlessly through the thin sleeve of his uniform.

"Captain?"

"Don't report to Security, there won't be any charges."

"I assaulted the Chief Medical Officer, Captain."

"In defence of your captain, like you said before."

"I was mistaken, as you explained."

"But at the time, you were doing what you thought was your duty to ensure my safety."

"By potentially endangering the whole crew, if a crisis were to occur while the doctor is incapacitated."

"There are other doctors."

"None who with the same level of skill that Dr McCoy holds."

"Would you stop?" The sudden outburst had its desired effect, silencing Spock. "I won't let your report be tarnished because you were protecting me, _again._"

"Captain-"

"No, Spock." Spock closed his mouth with a sharp click, teeth clashing almost painfully. "Just let me protect you for once."

Spock was stunned. Words failed him. Thoughts refused to move. His captain's words rang in his ears, drowning out everything else.

"Yes, Captain." The reply came much longer than it should have, Spock was aware.

"Good." Spock sensed his dismissal was imminent. "Now get out of here before Bones wakes up. Telling him not to kill you will be easier without you in reach." Fighting a smile, Spock nodded his assent, promptly leaving.

Some hours later, following a disturbing attempt at meditation, Spock made a personal call to his father. Somehow, the simple act of seeing his parent's face seemed to calm him, if only a little. Noting the surprise in his father's eyes, Spock decided to 'get straight to the point' as his Human crew mates would say.

"Father, I wish to seek your council."

"What is it my son?"

"I find myself, _feeling_." Spock paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued. "Despite meditating extensively, I am unable to suppress my Human side satisfactorily."

"Clarify."

"Logic no longer represses my Human emotions." There was a pause following this statement, in while Spock watched his father openly think over his words. The sight was disconcerting.

"I fear, Spock, that you are mistaken."

"I do not understand."

"Logic does not repress our emotions, only gives us the means to control them and rise above them."

"I do not understand. My teachers-"

"Your teachers obviously did not inform you properly." For a moment, Spock thought his father sounded, angry. "A situation I will now rectify."

They spoke for many hours. Spock found the conversation enlightening, though the hours sacrificed from his sleeping schedule were sorely missed while he was on the bridge the following morning. With a better understanding of himself, however, Spock was able to work with little hassle.

The doctor made no mention of his actions the previous day, even when he went to apologise for his actions. The southern gentleman had only grunted at him, muttered something about 'hobgoblins', and had shooed him from the room.

Spock soon found himself settling into a schedule once more. His meals were once more enjoyed in the rumbling of the mess hall, though his companions were glad to find he was more willing to share in conversations. Gradually his captain claimed his nights once more, their chess games becoming more and more regular. This was interlaced with casual nights with Nyota, spent talking of the newest thing to catch her fancy.

"So, when are you going to tell him?" Spock didn't look up from what he was doing, careful to make every movement precise.

"I'm afraid you must give me more details, if you wish for me to answer accurately." Nyota laughed above him, watching his graceful fingers work.

"When are you going to tell Kirk you love him?" Her patient tone did nothing to stop the way Spock's hand jerked, ruining his hard work. Tutting to herself, Nyota withdrew her foot, looking at the line of red that had deviated from the nail. "Now look what you did."

Spock sat in silence, small brush still held in his fingers. Deep brown eyes were wide with shock, staring far beyond the wall of his friend's quarters. Seeing he needed the time to think, Nyota carefully extracted the brush, continuing his work.

"I-I do not understand." Her tinkling laugh offered no explanation.

"Am I wrong?"

"I do not harbour romantic feelings for our captain." The words were tight, stiff and emotionless.

"Uh huh." She was clearly unconvinced.

Spock couldn't focus his thoughts after her abrupt question. His mind would not slow, even after he left her presence and gathered his tools for meditation. Any attempt to control the turmoil that had been unleashed was futile. Spock hated the sudden feeling of complete confusion washing over him, and thanks to his discussion with his father, he couldn't even hide behind his Vulcan heritage.

Taking it upon himself to conduct an experiment, determined to view the situation as nothing more than a hypothesis yet to be proven. He judged every encounter he had with his captain, utilising the other crew members as his control group, by strict guidelines.

Spock knew his answer by the end of the first day. He spent an extra six days verifying his data. He then gave three days after that to think upon the best course of actions. If he was honest with himself, he would have had to admit he knew what he would do after that first day.

"Captain?"

"Yes Spock?"

"May I speak with you privately?" The younger man looked up from the cards in his hand. Spock felt eyes on his person, but he kept his own gaze on his captain.

"Can it wait?" A tingle of hurt passed through Spock.

"If you are occupied, I shall seek you out at a later time." Knowing his tone betrayed some of what he was feeling, Spock turned sharply on his heel, practically fleeing the room.

Spock made it most of the way from the recreational room to his own quarters before he heard a voice calling after him. Refusing to turn, he instead feigned temporary deafness, a rather ridiculous act considering the power of his hearing. He lengthened his stride until he was able to disappear within the safety of his private space, waiting until he was inside to breathe a near nonexistent sigh of relief.

He had taken six point one steps into the room when he heard the telltale sound of his door opening once more. Keeping his back to the portal, he cursed command override protocols. They stood in silence for exactly seven point three five seconds before his captain became impatient.

"What's so important it's got you acting like a girl?" Spock calmed himself before replying, uncomfortable with how easily his emotions were leaking out.

"I wish to request a transfer, sir." His statement was met with a tense silence. It didn't last as long as he may have hoped.

"What the hell for?"

"I believe I am emotionally compromised, and therefore unable to complete my duties as your First Officer satisfactorily."

"Is this because of your thing with Uhura?" Spock was momentarily thrown, completely forgetting his original line of thought, and the perfectly logical argument he had prepared.

"My 'thing', Captain?"

"Yeah, your relationship." The last word seemed to twist in his mouth, as though distasteful.

"Our romantic relationship was terminated one point one three years ago."

"Really? But you guys spend so much time together."

"We are, friends, Captain."

"So why the hell are you 'emotionally compromised'?" Spock hesitated. He had known this question would be asked, just as he knew his answer would be lacking for his captain.

"I do not believe the details are important, only that it is true."

"Bullshit, the details are _extremely_ important." A smirk pulled at the other man's mouth, an expression he wore when he was about to outsmart the admiralty, or take Spock's king. Spock kept his focus harshly away from thoughts of his captain's lips. "If you believe yourself to be compromised, I need to know how so that I may judge if this is really the case."

This was why his Jim was such a challenge in chess. His mind worked like lightning, unpredictable and deadly, alternating between brilliant shows of light and destructive demonstrations of power.

"I formally request I be allowed to disembark at the next space station in our current flight plan."

"I won't let you go." A sudden hardness overtook his captain, a harsh quality to his voice. "I'm sorry Spock, but I need you here."

"I cannot-"

"I don't care." Spock flinched, though the movement was minuscule, escaping the younger man's notice. "Do whatever you have to do, I refuse to give you up."

Spock was not give the chance to reply, the sound of his door closing still ringing in his ears when his thoughts caught up with the situation. He was not to be allowed to leave. _Do whatever you have to do_, his captain's words still ran through his mind. What could he do?

Days later, Spock found himself unable to work at a hundred percent proficiency, though he was still much more effective a worker than his Human counterparts. It irked him, knowing his emotions had come to take such a toll. His thoughts would not focus, his mind constantly wandered, and meditation did little to help.

He contemplated speaking to his captain once more on the issue of transference, but the reminder of his heavy words always stopped him. The darkly honest part of his mind took joy in pointing out the most effective words his captain had spoke were _I need you_.

His mind was caught in such thoughts when his communicator chirped. It was becoming disturbing frequent for such an occurrence to come about. The list of arguments for his immediate transfer only seemed to be growing.

"Dammit Spock!" The doctor's voice flowed easily from the small device to fill the enclosed space of the lab. "Get your green as down here."

Fighting the urge to correct the other man, Spock moved to comply. The memory of the last time Dr McCoy had called Spock as such only sped him along faster.

"Doctor?" The question was uttered as Spock took seemingly impossibly long strides from the entrance to the bed his captain lay in.

"One day he'll realise I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker." Spock assumed the muttered words weren't meant for him. "Our esteemed captain here," he gestured over the beaten, almost unrecongisable, body. "Offered to help the locals with their harvest. Ensign Myers informed me they were worried about their crops going to waste, so Jim did what Jim does best and put himself in danger. Apparently the other farm hands didn't appreciate the help, though maybe if they knew Jim was one of their _visitors_, they wouldn't have done it. I-"

Spock watched his captain breathe as the doctor rambled. He took in the blood caked hair, the darkening bruises on his face, and the ripped clothing that was far from Starfleet standard. He absorbed it all, fighting the same blood lust that had overcome him last time he saw his Jim in such a condition.

"- don't know if he'll wake up. Those bastards managed to do quite a number on him. I stopped the internal bleeding, but-"

Spock ran gentle fingers up his captain's arm, unwittingly pushing the long brown sleeve of his obviously borrowed clothes up. Hyper sensitive finger tips ran over what should have been smooth skin.

"Doctor, how old are these wounds?" The question shocked the other man, cutting through his monologue of data.

"He got them around the time he was attacked." There was no need for the statement to be clarified.

Spock continued his light caress, uncaring of how the doctor stared. His finger tips felt each slight variation on his captain's skin. Without a doubt he knew some of the scars he felt were older, near gone due to clean treatment. Anger flared at the thought of past attacks on his Jim.

"Spock," the hybrid brought his head up, drawing his hand away with regret. "I need you to do some of your Vulcan voodoo. I need you to bring him back. I don't think he'll wake up otherwise."

He wanted to refuse, wanted to list all the reasons as to why the doctor's idea was dangerous. But he knew he couldn't, knew he had to do his duty for his captain. He would do whatever he had to, just as his Jim had instructed.

Placing finger tips to the delicate meld points, Spock could feel his captain's mind humming beneath them. Murmuring the ritual phrase, mostly to himself, he took the first tentative step into his friend's mind.

Shocking colour surrounded him, blanketing his mental presence in light and warmth. A multitude of raw emotions pressed down around him, so much like his own, yet so foreign. It was breathtaking and captivating. If the circumstances were better, Spock would have truly enjoyed himself in the expanses of blinding lights.

Moving forward cautiously, Spock sent out searching fingers, ghosting over the stillness of his captain's thoughts. It wasn't long until a boy appeared before him, little more than ten. His bright blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair gave away his identity, even before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Who the hell are you?" His tone was so much like that of the man he knew, Spock couldn't help but smile. Though it wad contained, showing only in his eyes.

"I am Spock."

"No you're not." The boy's denial took him by surprise.

"I must assure you, indeed I am."

"Spock's old. I don't like him very much."

"Why?" He hadn't meant to ask, hadn't meant to comment at all, but Spock found his confusion, and therefore his curiosity, taking over.

"He came in here, without asking like you." The boy shook his head, indicating this wasn't what had caused his dislike. "Then he made a big mess, everything went wrong after he left. And," here the boy lowered his voice, as though afraid someone would hear. "Then he kissed me, out there, in the real world. It was gross. He's _so_ old." The child drew the word out, highlighting his disdain.

"I do not understand." Spock watched the child shrug.

"Why're you here anyways?"

"I have come to find my captain."

"Oh, he's gone."

"You must tell me where." The boy raised an eyebrow,the perfect copy of his elder self when posed with a demand. Really, Spock should have known better.

"I don't have to tell you anything." With that, the child was gone, disappeared back into the inner workings of his captain's mind. Sighing, Spock resigned himself to a long search.

The further he ventured, the more he felt crushed by the emotions around him, and the more he had to fight them off. As they pushed, Spock pushed back, forcing them away. Eventually, he forced them behind a wall, the colour leeching from the landscape as he did so. Soon it almost looked like his own mind, bathed in muted greys.

It was then he found his captain, huddled in the middle of a dark expanse. His body was hunched, curled over itself. Moving forward quickly, Spock put a gentle hand on his tense shoulder.

"Captain?" Wide blue eyes flew to deep brown, appearing fearful.

"Spock? Is that you?"

"It is Captain." Sliding his palm down, Spock took his friend's hand in his own. "Please, come with me."

"You never say please." Rather than standing, the younger man made motions to pull Spock down beside him. Resisting easily, Spock pulled his Jim up.

"I know."

"Jim."

"Jim." He amended. Confident the other man was ready to awaken, Spock carefully eased his mind back to where it belonged.

Fighting back the sudden sense of loneliness, Spock turned his gaze to the slowly opening eyes of arresting blue. He watched as they took in their surroundings, getting a bearing on himself. Spock quashed the spike of jealousy within him when those eyes chose to focus on the doctor, rather than himself.

"Bones?" He was not jealous, he kept telling himself. Spock refused to admit he was lying, even if only in his own mind.

"You got beat up bad kid."

"Ugh, I feel worse then when-" He stopped suddenly when his eyes fell on Spock.

"I will take my leave." Spock nodded once to his captain, before turning sharply on his heel and leaving.

The _Enterprise_ was given back her captain barely a day after he was attacked. It was almost as though he was never in sickbay. The crew liked it when it was like that, and so did Spock. Things just felt wrong when his Jim wasn't in command.

For a few days life was peaceful on the _Enterprise_. They were traveling through friendly space, set to arrive at a station sooner than Spock had thought. He hadn't broached the subject of his departure again, and he wasn't sure if he could. Spock was afraid.

Afraid his captain would ask him to stay. Even more afraid he would let him go. It didn't help that his Jim hadn't spoken to him since the meld, even managing to avoid conversations about ship's business. Needless to say, that was quite a feat.

_Enterprise_ arrived at the station well into the night time hours, not that that was obvious in the uniform darkness of space. Granted momentary leave, most of the crew disembarked to enjoy the luxuries they were missing on their ship. Luxuries such as bars.

Spock remained on board, pacing his quarters restlessly, in a state of packing. Clothes lay strewn across his bed, his possessions in the most disarray he had ever seen them. Spock would alternate between storing items carefully within his bags, and rearranging them amongst his living space.

Spock was glad for the interruption, when it came in the form of muted voices on the other side of the bulkhead. He recognised the timbre of his captain's voice immediately, though the other was foreign to him. He wasn't given much time to ponder over the stranger, however, as new sounds floated into Spock's quarters.

First came the rustling of fabric, broken occasionally by sharp intakes of breath. Then the slight creaking of the standard issue bed every living space upon _Enterprise_ contained. Finally, skin slapping against skin.

Spock had no idea how he could mistake nightmares for _this_.

Once the ordeal was over, as Spock couldn't bring himself to move, to stop being a silent witness to the whole thing, he heard the unmistakable sounds of their shared bathroom being used. Maybe they were to have a repeat performance, Spock couldn't help but wonder bitterly.

It was sometime, exactly fifteen point eight two minutes, before Spock had the courage to move. Knowing his captain to be alone, something he verified with the ship's computer, Spock crossed the still warm air of their bathing facility.

Pausing before the door, a part of Spock questioned the wisdom of confronting his captain at such a time. He was obviously not in control of his emotions, unable to view the situation in a logical and reasonable manner. That part of him was swept away by the pure _anger_ and _hurt_ he felt.

Burning below it was an undeniable need. The need to mark, to claim. The need to make the other man his own. The need to make it clear to all who he belonged, clear to all who he was bound. Spock shook with it, slight tremors running through him. He _needed_.

"Captain-" All his anger drained from him, lost at the sight of his Jim perched on the edge of his still crumpled bed, curled protectively in on himself. The position reminded Spock of their meld.

Oceanic eyes rose to meet his own, a dark storm raging in their depths. Spock was before him in an instant, cool fingers wrapping around water heated skin. Lifting easily, Spock set the younger man carefully on his feet, eyes never breaking contact.

For a short eternity, they simply stared at one another, neither sure of what to say, and both lacking the courage to search for words. Finally, finally Spock moved, gently lowering his head to meet his captain's.

He pressed their lips together in the softest kiss imaginable. When he got no response, he deepened it, adding the hunger and intensity burning inside of him. Still, he got nothing.

Delicate fingers slid down bare shoulders, enjoying the smooth glide of skin. They carefully wrapped themselves around his captain's crossed forearms, trying to gently pull them apart. They met a wetness that was not water.

A growl pulled itself from Spock's throat, causing his Jim to stiffen further, if such a thing were even possible. Roughly dragging the other man's arms apart, Spock pulled his lips away from that tempting mouth.

"Who did this?" With a tone so low, it was barely heard, the words were growled out. The wounds were shallow, enough to bleed, but not enough to threaten his life. His Jim looked away, suddenly afraid to meet his gaze. "Who did this?"

"Perfect Captain Kirk, poster boy for Starfleet." There was a bitter tone to his voice that set the hybrid immediately on edge. "Perfect little ladies man, can't possibly have something dark inside him.

"Given his own ship, with a perfect little crew, left to play at being Captain while the big boys call all the shots." Spock shifted minutely, subtly backing out of his captain's personal space. "Can't even be trusted with the smallest little thing, even though he's a hero. Saved Earth, stopped a whole alien race from being wiped out. A real fucking hero.

"The kind of man a mother would be proud to call 'son', but no, not mine. She wouldn't even know if I was dead." Spock got the distinct impression his captain's words weren't for his ears. He was sure the other man had forgotten about him completely. "Can't really blame her, her no good kid reminding her of the husband she shouldn't have lost. I deserved the beatings, didn't I? They made up for what I stole from you." Jim shook his head, coming back to himself enough to stop talking to a woman who was not there. "I was glad when she sent me away.

"I was happy to be free of her, and that asshole she married." Cold, hard eyes were now locked on Spock, anger colouring his Jim's voice. "Then there was the famine, and I had to eat. We all had to eat, and survive.

"How could we survive that? How could a bunch of kids come out alive?" He shook his head more frantically this time, as though trying to be free of his very own thoughts. "I died there. They touched me, took me. Killed me." Spock yearned to silence his captain, ached to stop the painful wave of words and ease his suffering. "Couldn't even shake hands without wanting to vomit until I was seventeen.

"Now look at me." A bitter laugh. "Fucking a stranger just to _feel_ something. I couldn't be more fucked up if I tried."

Silence consumed them. Spock's mind worked frantically, trying to sort out all his captain had said. Words and meaning filtered slowly, delayed by the way blue eyes bore into brown, burning with more emotion than Spock could name.

"_I _did this Spock." He raised his arms, waving the dried blood beneath his nose. "I did this. I've been doing this to myself."

"Illogical."

"Of course it's illogical! I'm harming myself, a stupid human way of dealing with this, _thing _inside me."

Spock moved closer, crowding his captain against his own bed. Fear flashed in his eyes.

"It was illogical to assume there is no one who cares for your safety. No one to assist you through this time of hardship."

"'Time of hardship'?" His laugh was so bitter, Spock noticeably flinched. "I'm fucking _depressed, _Spock. You think they'd let me keep _Enterprise_ if that got out? Or maybe that's the point." Eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You want her, you want command."

"You are mis-"

"Don't lie to me Spock!" The older man took a hasty step back, unaccustomed to being yelled at.

"I can assure-"

"You've had it out for me since I forced you to admit you have _feelings_."

"Captain, I-"

"You can't stand knowing a Human got the better of you. That _this_ Human got the better of you." In a flash Spock reached out, effectively breaking one of his peoples' most sacred laws in a moment of anger.

His mind was in tatters. Broken sections of light pushed against the grey Spock had enforced during their last encounter. Colours literally bled, swirling across the landscape in a sickening displaying.

Spock more felt than saw his wall, and instantly realised his mistake. He had done this, he had caused his captain's distress. With gentle mental fingers, Spock pulled the barrier apart, allowing emotions to slowly trickle back into place.

The crush of anger, loathing and despair threatened to overwhelm him. The feelings were so dark, so strong, Spock was amazed at his Jim's ability to withstand them.

"What did you do?" It was the child again.

"I made a mistake."

"You never make mistakes." Spock couldn't help but grace the boy a real smile at his innocent words. It faded quickly as he remembered what this child had suffered.

"When I was here last, to locate my captain, I forced his emotions behind a, for lack of a better term, barrier."

"Why?" The boy didn't sound angry, merely curious.

"I- I was unfortunately unaware of what my actions would do."

"So, you came here to fix it."

"No," Spock shook his mental head. "I came here to confront my captain, and force him to see the truth."

"We can be pretty stubborn." The boy agreed solemnly. "He's over there." A slim, sun kissed arm pointed the way, before once again fading into the bright colours of their surroundings.

Following child Jim's basic direction, Spock quickly came upon reality's counterpart.

"Go away." The words were petulant.

"No."

"This is my head, I can kick you out if I want."

"Captain-" Spock easily resisted the first attempt to expel him. "Captain, here I cannot lie to you." The insistent pushing slowly eased, telling Spock he wouldn't be ignored. "In light of that, I wish to inform you, I have no interest of commanding a ship, especially the _Enterprise_, just as I have no interest in working anywhere but below you." A subtle amusement washed over Spock, almost drowned out by shock and the smallest tinge of gratitude. He was unsurprised his captain would find such ludicrous meaning in his innocent words.

"Then why ask for a transfer?" Spock immediately pulled back, fear and shame pulsing from him as he distanced himself completely.

The harsh movement from mind to reality left both men reeling, though Spock recovered first. In that moment, where Spock was more aware than his captain, he fought with himself. He wished to flee, but he knew there was no point. His captain would follow would give chase, and would obtain the answers he would no doubt seek. Spock was powerless to his Jim's will.

"Why?" A soft voice, speaking a softer word, causing a chill to pass between Spock's shoulders. "Why'd you do it?"

"As I informed you Captain, I am emotionally compromised." The reply was sharp, a harsh contrast to the question.

"By me?" His answer was loud in the silence that followed. Barking a disbelieving laugh, the younger man shook his head. "God, I should have seen it coming. Just like _him._" While Spock was curious, he chose not to ask.

"I will disembark immediately, once I have completed gathering my belongings."

"I'm sorry Spock, but I won't let you leave."

"Captain, I am-"

"I can't, Spock, I need you." Hope swiftly bloomed in his chest. His captain must have read it in his eyes, for he shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry Spock, I can't return your feelings, but I can't let you leave either."

Choking back tears that very suddenly threatened, Spock turned abruptly on his heel. He had barely taken two steps before his captain's voice drew him back. Refusing to turn once more, he let the words wash over his back stoically.

"It's not that I don't want to." He hurriedly explained. "I just can't. I want to, but I can't."

"Clarify." Emotionless logic overtook with no effort, wrapping Spock in its safe depths, keeping him far from the sting of _feelings_.

"I-I can't be with you, be with anyone."

"I understand." He didn't. "The captain cannot be seen to fraternise with members of his crew. Cannot be seen to show favouritism."

"Yeah, that's it." His Jim's, _no, just Jim_, tone suggested that wasn't it at all, but Spock had no wish to question him further. "I'm sorry Spock." The words chased him from the room.

They didn't speak as anything other than Captain and First Officer for four point nine days. Spock couldn't, _wouldn't_, admit to himself that this fact bothered him. Wouldn't allow the sheer amount of _pain_ and _sadness_ to leak through his barriers of logic. Reason kept him sane, even as his dark feelings ate away at his control.

"Spock? Have you been listening at all?" Nyota's voice cut through his thoughts easily, scattering them like leaves in the wind.

"No." She was beginning to grow accustomed to his short replies, and declining manners.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is amiss." She didn't bother replying, knowing full well she'd only get snapped at. Instead, she allowed the moody hybrid to keep eating in peace, letting her eyes wander across the mostly full mess.

Her gaze quickly fell on the back of the ship's doctor, quietly admiring him. Though she would never broach the subject of an actual relationship with the older man, she could quite happily enjoy the view _thank you very much. _Allowing her mind to wander much as her eyes were, she barely noticed when blue orbs locked with her own.

Kirk was sad, she could read it in his body language. Something was troubling him, if the tension in his shoulders was anything to go by. A forced smile and false laugh drifted across to their table, the space between the two positions not as far as her companion would have liked. McCoy may have been fooled, but Nyota knew better, and, if by the way he froze momentarily, so did Spock.

"I must return to the bridge." Nyota watched calmly as he left her, reading much simply from the way he walked. Spock was truly stupid if he believed he could hide how he felt from her. Linguistics was always so much more than sounds and phrases.

Making a lightening fast decision, she too stood. Keeping her pace calm and even, Nyota moved to stand behind the doctor, looking over his shoulder. Reminding herself to keep the appropriate body language for her captain, she scowled.

"Captain?"

"Yes lieutenant?" Even his customary leer was lacking.

"May I speak to you in private?" The man hesitated, before nodding his approval, following her from the crowded mess.

Taking long strides, Nyota led Kirk to the first empty room she could find, letting the door close automatically behind him before turning to face the man. She took a long moment to simply examine him, drinking in all the details she could.

The set of his shoulders said he was stressed, even as his fingers curled and uncurled subconsciously in a form of nervousness. His eyes danced as his mind slipped from present to memory and back again.

"What did you do to him?" There was no need to explain who. Kirk sighed.

"He told me he loved me, in his own way I guess." He paused, as though hopeful he wouldn't have to say anymore. When the beautiful communications officer only raised an eyebrow, he sighed again. "And, I rejected him."

"Why? You love him." The question, delivered with such venom, was enough to make him flinch. The following statement only managed to land like a physical blow.

"I- how do you know that?"

"Oh come on Kirk, I see the way you look at him." She scoffed, easily tearing through his carefully created act. "I know Spock can be a bit of an ass, but he cares about you. He would never knowingly hurt you. He's already yours completely."

"I can't." His voice was almost as weak as he felt. He couldn't do this, he just couldn't.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't give him what he wants!" The words rushed out, tinge with the anger that could only be bred of honesty. Taking a calming breath, he continued slowly. "I'm not completely stupid, I know enough about Vulcans to know it'd probably be a lifetime kinda deal, and I know what he'd need from me. I can't give him that."

"So, basically, you're not willing to give up your endless parade of one night stands for a chance at love?" He flinched at her words, but didn't reply. Kirk watched her leave with a blank face.

He knew why she was so angry. It wasn't just for the feelings of her friend, but also for what Kirk himself was being offered. Spock was handing him the love Uhura had coveted, on a silver platter no less. And here he was, refusing it.

She just didn't understand.

Fighting apprehension, and a multitude of other emotions he just couldn't live up to, Kirk headed back to his bridge. His steps were slower than necessary, betraying his lack of courage. Refusing to brood on how he could face an entire Klingon fleet, but can't stand the tense silence between himself and his friend, Jim lengthened his stride by sheer force of will.

Rather than allowing himself to retreat automatically to his chair, Jim made himself wander around the bridge. He spoke to every crew member there, checking on ship's business while simultaneously socialising. Taking a very calculated route, even managing to say a few friendly words to Uhura, Kirk eventually came to a rest beside his science officer.

"Report Mr. Spock."

"No change, Captain."

Jim nodded. "Would you join me in my quarters tonight Mr. Spock? For a game of chess?" A moments hesitation.

Then. "If you wish, Captain."

Jim nodded, realising this would be the best answer he would get. Any answer that wasn't a rejection was better than what he had been expecting. Heading back to his chair, he fought back the grin begging to break free. Once he realised exactly _why_ he was wanting to grin like a fool, Jim had to push down rising bile. What the _hell_ was he thinking?

The end of shift, and the informal meeting it brought, came too quick for both the captain and first officer. Both watched the time pass with a mixture of trepidation and the thrill of possibilities.

"May I enter?" Spock stood in Jim's doorway, watching the younger man carefully. A feeling akin to fear churned in his stomach as he waited for the answer.

"Yeah, come on in." Nodding to his captain, Spock walked through the portal. Moving automatically to the already set up chess table, he made sure to avoid any accidental physical contact.

It had taken hours of meditation to prepare for this. Hours to cleanse emotions and build walls. Hours simply to have a defence in case of a touch, or a stray word. Secretly, Spock longed for the day where he may be able to converse with his captain, without having to make such arduous preparations.

He obviously shouldn't have worried. They neither came in contact, nor spoke more than a few words for the first two point six matches of the night. Jim was fighting his nerves, slowly but surely convincing himself to speak. As he did so, Spock bit back a growing disappointment, having been sure his captain had requested their game so that the pair could talk.

"Spock, I'm sorry."

"For what, Captain?"

"I wasn't completely honest with you." As though to highlight his guilt, Jim rubbed the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly.

"Clarify." Too late, Spock realised this was not the best way of asking for more information. Jim's flinch only reinforced this new knowledge.

For a long while, Jim merely watched Spock, completely unsure of how to continue.

"I love you Spock." If it weren't for superior Vulcan hearing, Spock may have missed those damming words.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You're angry?"

"Vulcan's don't-"

"Why the hell are you angry?" He was so incredulous, Spock couldn't even be annoyed at being cut off.

"What emotion am I meant to experience in light of your confession?"

"I don't know, happiness maybe?"

"Why?"

"Because I return your feelings." Jim was beginning to regret his decision now. What if Uhura had been wrong? What if he had misunderstood? Maybe Spock didn't love him after all. Why would he love such a broken man, anyway?

"Yet, you have already stated you do not wish to have a relationship with me." Jim flinched. Spock was right.

"It's not that I don't want to." He offered in a small voice.

"While I would greatly like to believe you fear incurring the wrath of the admiralty, I can name many regulations that could allow us to share in a romantic relationship." Spock's shoulders were stiff and his words tight with controlled emotion. "I am therefore forced to draw the conclusion that your hesitance stems from either my Vulcan heritage or my gender."

His only warning was the crash of metal against metal. Jim's chair flew back, landing heavily against the bare floor as he practically launched himself across the table. Fingers wrapped in blue fabric, pulling it taunt. Faces were painfully close, breath mixing in the small space between.

"You know why." And for a moment, Spock understood perfectly. As soon as realisation crossed his face, Jim released him, almost throwing him backwards. Though he knew Spock had drawn the right conclusion, Jim spoke the harsh words anyway. "Why would I think for a second you'd want me? A man so broken, he can't come in contact with someone without having to fight fear.

"I know about _pon farr_, Spock." If Jim saw the way the hybrid flinched, he ignored it. "Vulcan's can't afford to hide something like that anymore, especially not from people who are serving over them. I can't help you with that, Spock. If you were to enter it tomorrow, I couldn't mate with you. And I know I'm not selfless enough to let you do it with someone else, not if you're mine."

"There are other ways-"

"What? By meditating away all your emotions?" He was pacing now, an action Spock watched carefully from his seat. "Yeah, I could totally deal with that." The sarcasm was so thick, even the half Vulcan couldn't miss it.

"I may not even-"

"I know, I know. You're human half may take precedent." Jim was still pacing restlessly.

"Captain, I-"

"Just face it Spock, I can't be what you need. I just can't." A deep shaky breath was the precursor to his next words. "You should just give up on me."

"No." Jim opened his mouth to argue, but the hybrid stood quickly before he could begin. "I will not. I will wait until you are able to give yourself to me, even if such an event were never to come to pass." Taking the required steps to cover the small amount of ground between them, Spock slowly reached out.

Gentle hands grasped calloused fingers. Slowly, oh so painfully slowly, fingers caressed, sliding softly over each other. Jim knew what it was, even without the way Spock's eyes drifted shut in restrained ecstasy. He knew, without a doubt, that by allowing the touch, by returning the touch, he was sealing his own fate.

James T. Kirk. Captain. Hero. Genius. Womaniser. He had just signed over his heart to his First Officer. His polar opposite. His once teacher, rival, friend, had just become his possible lover. With a few small movements of his hand, Jim Kirk gave up reputations he hadn't really earned, for a chance at happiness he may screw up.

The first one to be informed of this change was an elder hybrid who did not truly belong amongst them. He was faced with a fiercely protective younger counter-part that supplied, in no uncertain terms, that he was never to make _advances_ on _his_ captain again.


End file.
